


Post-its

by sunaddicted



Series: The way you said "I love you" [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Batfamily (DCU), Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21862264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: Bruce swallowed his heart and turned the light off.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: The way you said "I love you" [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573432
Comments: 13
Kudos: 172





	Post-its

**Author's Note:**

> "On a post-it note"

_Post-its_

_1._

When Bruce opened the Tupperware box and a post-it note with a scrawled _I love you_ upon it fell out, he chalked it up to Alfred mistakenly putting it with the cake he was supposed to bring to the Watchtower holiday party instead with the one Damian had to bring to school. Still, he picked it up and smoothed it carefully before putting it away in the notebook he always kept lying around his quarters at the Watchtower - it might not have been written specifically for him but Bruce knew that the sentiment was there anyway and he cherished it, felt warmed up by the simple knowledge that it was there.

It was with a lighter step and a more cheerful attitude that Bruce entered the rec room - he didn't even scold Barry when the Flash zoomed past him and shamelessly took the cake away, happily leaving scolding duty to Diana for once while he sidled closer to Clark and accepted the glass the other had already set aside for him "How much has he eaten already?"

"You don't want to know"

"I mean, I sort of do. For scientific purposes"

It said a lot about how well he knew Bruce that Clark didn't even doubt the answer being the complete and utter truth: if there was someone who would genuinely track Barry's food intake to better study his generic makeup, that would be the Batman "He said he ate the chimichangas and a box of donuts on the way here and I'm pretty sure he's absconded with a plate of pasta while we were waiting for you"

"He's done worse"

Clark hummed "True. Still, I would like a piece of Alfred's cake - what is it?"

"Black forest"

"Rao, that's good. Hold this for me"

Bruce's hand was already posed to accept the glass Clark was passing him, a little grin following the Kryptonian as he ran after Barry in an attempt at salvaging at least a slice of cake - though, Bruce was betting against that: the younger hero had seemed rather... determined to get to the crumbles before anyone else could even look at the dessert. 

That was alright, just another excuse to invite Clark back to the manor for a piece of cake - not that he needed one but having it admittedly made him feel better, less clingy. 

* * *

_2._

When Bruce opened the stained and mistreated folder that Jason had dropped by the Cave while he had been at work, there was a deep frown on his forehead; sure, at least Jason had been collaborative for once but surely that wasn't the state surveillance documents rich with important information were supposed to be kept.

He had certainly taught the boy differently - and maybe that was the only reason he needed to explain why the folder had reached his desk in such poor conditions.

Bruce wrinkled his nose as he tried to identify some of the stains, lazily wondering about whether it would be safer to don on a pair of latex gloves - the brownish splatter in the upper right corner suspiciously looked like blood.

It was dry, at least.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce flipped it open and let out an annoyed noise at the piece of paper that flew out, irritated by the fact that he would have to guess where exactly Jason had meant it to go. It was really starting to look like Jason hadn't been that cooperative afterall and really, Bruce wasn't that surprised - again, maybe that mistrust was in part the reason why Jason made everything so hard. 

_I love you._

Bruce squinted down at the bright green post-it, heart stupidly hammering in his chest; it was Jason's handwriting, no questions about that, but his son hadn't told him those words in... far too many years, it hurt just thinking about it. So he folded the note and put it in the back pocket of his trousers - out of sight, out of mind.

It probably had been for Roy Harper anyway.

* * *

_3._

When Bruce came back from his extremely short lunchbreak, the sight of the pile of paperwork awaiting him made him wish that he could just call Clark and make his partner incinerate the whole lot.

If only.

He sat down heavily, forcing his mind to ignore its own exhaustion to focus on the task at hand. 

Having Tim work at the company had unquestionably helped to reduce Bruce's stress and headaches - still, some days were going to be long and that couldn't be helped, no matter how hard his son worked to ensure that as little problems and drama as possible reached him.

Bruce didn't blame him for it.

On the contrary, he knew he should have been a lot more vocal about his appreciation for Tim's hard work and efforts - maybe he could gift him with a new suit or maybe a new Bo staff, one with some kind of fancy function like electrocution; he would have to take apart one of the Riddler's canes once he got home and take some inspiration: he might not appreciate the way the Rogue used his intellect but there was no denying that Nygma had some pretty great ideas. 

He just needed to get through the day first. 

Somehow, surviving another night of patrolling Gotham seemed way more likely.

Bruce sorted through the pile, looking for Tim's report; it was bound to be there, appropriately marked, and it was going to make things easier on him - they usually did: he was faithful it would help him that day as well. He let out a pleased hum when he finally found it; he was sure that gratitude was palpably radiating off of his body. 

Yes, Tim definitely deserved a new staff.

The heart-shaped note stuck to the first page made Bruce smile - undoubtedly Tim's objective in the first place - and he gently tugged it off, bringing it closer to his eyes to read it.

_I love you._

Bruce would have to remind his son that he didn't need to apologise for a hard day of work, it wasn't his fault. 

* * *

_4._

When Bruce noticed the light still streaming from underneath Damian's door, he let out a small sigh: two insomniacs under a roof seemed more than enough, he didn't need his youngest to take up his and Tim's bad habit. He knocked gently on the door and, when no answer came, he pushed the door open a little to peer inside the room; his son was bent over his desk, clearly fast asleep.

The sight made Bruce's heart squeeze in a way that he would never admit out aloud; it just was so... Sweet. Peaceful. Tender. He liked seeing Damian so relaxed more than he could have ever put into words so, he didn't try - not even in his own mind. 

He slid inside the bedroom less quietly than he would have liked, knowing that Damian's ever-alert brain would pick up on the slight and familiar noises and allow the boy to keep sleeping, instead of making him jump in defence like he would do if anyone crept up on him unexpectedly. Carefully, he slung an arm across Damian's chest to draw him up from the desk, while he deftly plucked the pencil out of his fingers, and then he picked him up; Damian wasn't that little anymore, still shorter than his brothers though, but Bruce had moved far heavier things - like Clark when the other man fell asleep on him or Jason's drunk ass.

"Father"

"Shh. I'm just going to turn the lights off"

Damian let out a small hum, hands blindly reaching for Alfred the cat who had already crawled up the bed, so that he could curl up in the crook of Damian's neck while Titus loyally slumbered at the foot of the bed, protective and vigilant; Bruce caressed the dog on his way to the desk, so that he could turn the lamp off, eyes involuntarily straying to the drawing his son had been focused on and then to the neatly wrapped package in the corner, a bat-shaped post-it stuck to it.

_I love you, father._

Bruce swallowed his heart and turned the light off.

* * *

_5._

When Bruce picked up the cereal box from the cabinet and it felt suspiciously light, he already knew it would be empty.

Well, almost. 

Bruce peered inside to tug out the empty plastic bag - Dick had even vacuumed the crumbs, the heathen - and a crumbled sticky note that read _sorry, love u ;)_ which admittedly did make him smile a little. Just a little, though: why couldn't Dick at least be bothered to toss the box out instead of letting it give people false hopes?

It was his idea of a prank, probably.

Well, someone wasn't going to find his favourite brand in the cabinet the next time he visited and Bruce would take pleasure in the absolutely crestfallen look that he knew would appear on his son's face - it always had when his son didn't find his favourite cereals, lasting a solid minute before he moved on to an acceptable substitute. 

Which apparently he had to find as well.

Bruce shook his head fondly at the note before storing it in the pocket of his robe and looking into the cabinet in search something else to eat - peanutbutter and jelly sandwich it was, then.

* * *

_+1._

When Bruce opened his eyes to the sight of Clark smiling down on him, irradiated by the sunlight streaming from behind his body and beautiful as a marble statue that belonged into a museum, he honestly thought that he was still dreaming - between the rare sunlight and the unexpected appearance of his partner, Bruce wasn't quite sure if he could believe in what he was seeing.

Then the other man bent down and the feeling of Clarke's mouth against his own was warm and soft and real and Bruce was suddenly very aware of the fact that he hadn't brushed his teeth yet so, he tightened his lips until the other man drew back "Morning breath"

Clark rolled his eyes but he sat down on the edge of the bed, leaving the other man the space to get up and use the bathroom if he needed it, knowing just how particular Bruce could be about such things "I don't mind"

"I do" Bruce sat up, squinting at the blinding light now that it wasn't half-obscured by the other's figure "What are you doing here?"

"I'm happy to see you too, B"

He scowled at the tease "I've just woken up" and while Bruce did like mornings, patrolling at night made it hard to be in a good mood without having ingested some coffee first "So?" He nudged the other man with his foot, wanting an answer to his question while he lounged a while longer. 

"I wanted to have breakfast with you"

"Why?"

Clark chuckled "To spend some quality time with you sans the capes"

"Oh"

The genuine surprise on the other's face would have probably made anyone else angry - Clark found it endearing, instead "And to give you this" he added, tossing a package in the other's lap "Before you can ask no, it's not your birthday or any other kind of festivity: I saw it, thought of you and decided you had to have it" everything had to have a reason for Bruce and Clark accepted it - worked with it.

Bruce raised his eye at the note stuck on the package "I love you - couldn't you have said it out aloud?"

"I love you - can't I say it both ways?" Clark grinned, bright and cheerful as Bruce harrumphed in apparent annoyance even as he set to the task of getting rid of the wrapping paper.

**Author's Note:**

> It's Bruce Wayne loving hours, move aside


End file.
